


Logan Pad

by Thrasirshall



Category: Crash Pad (2017), Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Clydeland, F/M, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, kylux adjacent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-03-22 08:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13760070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrasirshall/pseuds/Thrasirshall
Summary: Clyde Logan thought life would resume as normal in West Virgina after the dust had settled, the only concerns in his life right there and then was running Duck Tape, and avoiding Ms. Grayson's questions.Then he meets Stensland, who is somewhat of a disaster of a human being in more ways than one.





	1. Chapter 1

So things didn't exactly work out with Hannah.  
  
They had more in common than she thought, despite her rather understandable concerns prior to the Morgan-Grady issue. Still, things had smoothed over, Stensland’s new job paid well, he could _finally_ pay his angry landlady again, and… well, things had started to look up for a while.  
  
The sex had even been pretty good, but after a time he noticed how her heart _really_ hadn’t been in it despite that they did enjoy each other’s company. Even bitched about Morgan and Grady because… well, they weren’t exactly stable people themselves, all things considered.  
  
So, he opted to simply ask. Stensland prided himself on being a gentleman in every aspect, and if Hannah wasn’t digging the sex, then clearly there was a problem, and he was going to help fix it.  
  
When they did talk over coffee - Stensland almost wondered for the briefest moment of self-pity if he repelled women **that** much, he turned them gay, but… her tears had been real, as her denial for many years on account of having a Catholic upbringing.  
He was comforted with her genuine gratitude of how decent he was about it, but there was no way he’d force anyone to be something they were not.  
  
Stensland let slip that he had an uncomfortable familiarity with that, after all, but Hannah had only smiled, not prying.  
  
The more positive note was that Hannah still wanted to be friends, which was something at least. They could check out ladies together, Stensland could be her wingman and all!  

Stensland knew he would've normally have felt more upset at being, once again, dumped and left out in the cold despite the much more positive outcome, but….

 

Well, hearing guns go off at eleven at night was a little bit more of an immediate worry right there and then. His reaction had been instantaneous - knowing exactly what to do. 

Hiding in a fire escape he’d disalarmed a long time ago, Stensland -  as much as he hated his landlady, hoped to God that she hadn't been caught in the shooting.  
Her furious shouting several seconds later told him she hadn't, and it was enough of a moment of confusion to delay his pursuers. He then hoped she wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack them with her broom - _then_ she’d be dead.  
Stensland made his way down the fire escape with an agility no one would’ve guessed he’d had, and fled as fast as his legs could carry him with thirty thousand dollars, black clothes, and his passport.

That had been a week ago now.  
  
Stensland still looked over his shoulder despite that he was no longer in Vancouver. He’d hastily bought a car, and drove and drove and drove, with every intention of leaving Canada. Somehow, he managed to get past border control without too much of a hitch - he pulled the Dumb Tourist card out, and of course, being Irish helped. Everyone _loved_ the Irish.  
  
As soon though as Stensland drove past, his happy, goofy smile dropped. 

 

He'd lost everything - his flat, his new job, even his beloved Dawson’s Creek box.  
From the _Vancouver Sun,_  when he was brave enough to finally look at the news online - they'd turned the place over and then burned it down.  
His landlady survived, seemingly after battering the absolute shit out of some of the gunman, but… it kept Stensland up at night sometimes, nevermind carrying thousands of dollars in the back of the car.  
  
At the motel - how many he’d now stayed at had become a blur anyway, Stensland looked at himself in the mirror for a long time. He was dressed in the black sports clothes he’d brought, before picking up an electric razor to his bright moppy red hair.  
  
He couldn’t tell Hannah if he was okay. Perhaps that was safer for her.

It wasn't as if he had a choice really. The past always had a way of catching up with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen both Crash Pad and Logan Lucky, though Crash Pad only the once because it was ... a rather terrible movie, put simply.  
> Got Logan Lucky on BluRay, I loved it _that_ much.  
>  I did however really like Stensland, disaster of a person that he is. 
> 
> As such, the story - whichever direction it decides to go because I have too many ideas right now, will only reference the events in Crash Pad for character development purposes, but it'll be slowly ebbed out in favour of the Logan Lucky universe. 
> 
> Lastly, anything Irish or Ireland referenced is coming from an actual Irish person writing this.  
> Everything else however is going to be ah... fairly winged, but I've done my level best to research everything.


	2. Chapter 2

When the car started to emit smoke one evening, Stensland knew it was time to stop. He ended up in West Virginia, as rural a county he supposed as any.  
With no phone or google maps, Stensland could only rely on what he could see - until he eventually found what looked like a bar.  
While he wasn’t exactly _keen_ on stopping, Stensland was starving, and frankly - he was craving a toke and several beers to calm his shattered nerves.  
Maybe more, if he could get away with sleeping in the car overnight.  
  
The car just about chugged up to the parking lot, and he climbed out with a frown at the name.  
  
“... _Duck Tape._ ” he deadpanned, and caught the eye of a man smoking outside.  
  
Inside the bar, it was a usual Tuesday night with its usual crowd, all except for one new face.  
Clyde considered himself a pretty patient man, despite all he had been through. With having a family like his, along with that _curse_ of theirs, Clyde hadn’t felt much point in ever screaming at the universe. Things were what they were and he took what punches came his way.  
  
Not so much tonight, or the past _while_ actually.  
Ever since Ms. Grayson had appeared in Duck Tape and shared that shot with him with her secretive smile and rather appealing charm, talking about superstitions and curses. She was right up his alley - finally, someone who got it!

  
Since then, she hadn’t left him alone **what** so _ever_ , appearing at the bar nearly every night. It was pleasant at first, she did say she was staying for a time - but, something was starting to feel _off_ about the whole thing. He didn’t mind a few friendly words, but the conversations had veered off, and were starting to feel more like interviews.  
  
So Clyde at this point was giving the universe the stink eye, along with a few choice words.  
  
Jimmy of course had lightly joked that maybe it was about time he’d gotten a woman, maybe it was a sign, but had rather quickly retracted his statement upon Clyde giving him the most glowering stare for the longest time. Jimmy knew _better_ than that. Mellie had bluntly stated if Clyde wasn't interested, he wasn't interested, and the woman would move on.

Not so much in this case.  
  
“So, what time’s your shift over?” Grayson asked, “Maybe we could go out for that coffee we keep talking about.”

  
The coffee _she_ kept talking about, Clyde wanted to say. It was almost like a command. His hand tightening on the neck of the cocktail bottle, gave a little sniff, “Could be late, Ms. Grayson. Y’all don’t have to wait up.”  
  
“I insist,” she leaned over, “Your brother’s going back to Lynchburg tonight, right?”  
  
Clyde looked over at the other side of the bar, wishing Jimmy would come bloody rescue him, “... Yep.”  
He stared hard, willing for Jimmy to look this way, but his older brother was enamoured with Sylvia, his new - albeit very nice lady.  
  
“Must get lonely.” Grayson commented, leaving the suggestion hang as she followed his gaze.

She left a lot of things hang in the air. Then Clyde saw a customer raise a hand to him, and he almost bolted.  
  
“Be right back,” he said still, ever polite. Grayson watched after him, gaze studious, going over her mental notes again.  
  
Clyde Logan, aged thirty-four, middle child of the Logan family and the tallest out of the two siblings. Best described as a gentle giant. Owned and ran the bar and grill ‘Duck Tape’ - though that _Earl_ guy seemed like he was also part of the furniture, always sitting out front.  
Basic high-school education, though she was mildly surprised all three Logans got their diplomas despite their rather poor background and general high dropout rate this side of the state. Grayson tries not to assume, but facts were facts.  
Two tours in Iraq resulted in him becoming a transradial amputee, and was discharged on medical leave. Diagnosed PTSD, left untreated. That was highlighted in her mind as Important, with a secret footnote of Might Be Useful.

  
His ‘criminal’ record was laughable.  
Served time in juvie at thirteen, than ninety days in a Correctional Facility as an adult for ‘accidental’ destruction of property. She’d wrangled a report from Warden Burns of his stay there despite his complaints of it being unnecessary.  
Clyde was a _saint_ in comparison to some of the inmates in there, and left promptly alone on account of his service to the country. Worked with the prison nurse, released early for good behaviour.  
Friends with the Bang family. _Criminals being friends with other criminals_ , as Warden Burn had put it. Clyde didn’t really fit that bill, if she was honest.  
  
Looking up from the counter, Grayson narrowed her eyes at Clyde’s broad back as he made a cocktail, getting the attention of quite a few people at how he did it one-handed.  
She’d seen it enough times now to no longer be impressed, though her fingers did curl over her glass at how well he looked in blue, the shirt stretching with the strain from his muscles. No one said she couldn’t admire like the rest of them.  
  
However - there in laid her problem.  
Clyde wasn’t the big dumb fool she assumed, someone she could easily manipulate information out of. Though, he was also so _typical_ West Virginian, it made for a rather convincing facade.  
He’d been unfailingly polite to her, conversation easy the first night she arrived at Duck Tape, but discovered quickly he was good at deflecting questions with ones of his own.

He was clearly a damn good bartender - a friendly face without getting involved.  
Clyde’s attitude was clear cut in the difference of how he spoke to his family and anyone else, clearly a much more private individual to anyone who wasn’t a Logan or a Bang.  
  
Grayson was thankful at least that he didn’t suspect her immediately, likely categorising her under merely another, albeit chatty customer. As such - it was merely a matter of patience, and she had an abundance of it. She was where she was thanks to it.

Clyde was just a matter of slowly chipping away at his guard until something caved. Surely he'd eventually get the message that she was _interested_ , right?

After all, he lived alone now.

Clyde mulled about on the other side of the bar, picking up glasses, chatting idly to other customers. At this point, Grayson was certain another night or two of gentle cajoling, and she'd have her hands on him. He walked back with ease, though there was definitely a guarded air now. Jimmy glanced between the two, wordlessly noting how Clyde had been avoiding her more and more, and he shared a look with Mellie. Even Joe’s demeanour seemed to shift slightly as he saw her and Jimmy wordlessly exchange something.  

“Another, Ms. Grayson?” Clyde offered, easily pretending that coffee had not been suggested prior. Grayson decided to pull all the guns out.

“I will if you'll have coffee with me,” she said, sliding her glass forward, “I do believe you owe me that now at this point, right? It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

Clyde’s lips parted, hesitant. Grayson knew she wasn't the most conventionally attractive woman in the bar, but Clyde had nary given a second look to the other younger women either even when they openly flirted with him. The most likely reason was that he was just being staunchly professional - something Grayson could appreciate, but. But.

Grayson didn't give him a chance to answer just yet, grabbing him right where she wanted, “What d’you say?”

“I... sure, okay.” Clyde relented, jaw tight, “Though nothing fancy’ll be open-”

“That's fine, I don't mind.” she interrupted, claws now firmly sunk in, “Time?”

“I finish at eleven.” Clyde replied, then glanced at Jimmy, “But like I said -”

“There's a Denny’s not far from here, we can walk it.” Grayson stomped on his deflections.  

“No no, I'll drive us.” Clyde insisted quickly, “It’s not exactly safe for a lady walkin’ around at night.”

Grayson felt the muscles of her face almost itching to laugh at the irony of that statement, but she smiled widely, “Aren't you the gentleman.”

Clyde made a quiet, amused noise, poured her another drink with a fresh glass and wondered what he'd walked himself into.  
  
Back outside, the smoking gentleman approached Stensland, raising his head in a nod.  
  
“You get this thang from a scrapheap?” he asked goodnaturedly, cigarette between his lips. His stitched name tag had ‘Earl’ on it.  
  
“Might’ve well have,” Stensland sighed with a shrug, “I need to find a garage.”  
  
“Well, I got one.” Earl said,  “Could have a look if you wan’ here n’now, take ‘er then to the shop.”  
  
Stensland grinned, feeling like his luck was finally changing, “That... that actually would be fantastic, thank you, good sir.”  
  
The car had seen better days, and Stensland kept the straightest face he could muster as Earl gave it a lookover for a few minutes. He gave a hum. It wasn’t a good hum.  
  
Stensland rubbed the back of his head, fingers scratching at the now shaved sides, “Can it be salvaged at all?”  
  
Earl closed the hood of the car like you’d close the eyes of a corpse, “You’d be better off buyin’ a new one altogether, but sure, who’s got the money for that eh?”

  
There was _something_ about the way Earl said that that made it sound almost like a private joke, but Stensland felt too skittish and _far_ too sleep deprived to really wonder about it. He really didn’t want to leave the money in there either. Even if he’d tucked it into the innards of the car and some on his person, it was all he had to try and start again.  
  
Earl nodded to the bar, “Go get yerself a drink and I’ll see about towin’ this thang for you.”  
  
“Maybe tomorrow,” Stensland said quickly, “I gotta find a place to stay first. But, lemme buy you a drink as a thank you either way?”  
  
“Awright,” Earl nodded, walking in step with Stensland, “Ain’t never say no to a free drink.”  
  
Once inside, Earl gave a nod to Clyde before taking his usual spot in the corner, Clyde spotting the new face instantly. He was a tall, pale man, with bright red hair sticking up from the shaved sides of his head. It shone copper in the overhead lights, and for a moment, Clyde found himself staring longer than he realised.  
Stensland looked up after settling into the barstool and leaning both elbows on the counter, his body language emitting utter exhaustion. His eyes were a pale green, and he had the beginnings of stubble on his heart-shaped face.  
  
He was gorgeous, Clyde thought, but merely gave a nod to acknowledge his order, “What can I get you?”  
  
“Two beers, please.” Stensland smiled a little, though Clyde could detect it was a forced one, “And one for Earl.”  
Clyde gave Earl a curious look -  the cheeky fifty year old just smiling that smile of his, before taking two Buds out of the fridge.  
  
Clyde popped the caps off with one of the metal fingers, a new bar trick he’d recently perfected, flying effortlessly over his shoulder into a bucket filled with them before setting Stensland’s drink on the square napkin. All on purpose so to cheer this stranger up even a little, Clyde moving to stand a bit closer to him at least to admire. From this distance, the stranger had the nicest, full pink lips Clyde had seen.  
Hell, he was certainly the nicest thing that had walked into the bar in a while.  
  
A glint of amusement crossed Stensland’s eyes, raising the bottle to Clyde in thanks, “Hm, that’s useful.”  
He _almost_ said that it was ‘handy’ - but this bartender, regardless of his gentle demeanour, looked like he could break him in half, so Stensland very quickly corrected himself before opening his big dumb mouth.  
  
“You look like you’ve had a long day.” Clyde hummed, “You travel far?”  
  
“More like a long _week,_  but,” Stensland blurted out tiredly, but quickly stopped himself - _don’t talk too much you idiot!_  
He paused for a second before speaking again, “Things have a way of working themselves out.”  
  
“That they do.” Clyde agreed quite amicably, noting the accent, “You ain’t from around here?”  
  
“No, I’m from Ireland.” Stensland explained, but without the gusto he normally had whenever people asked. He hadn’t the energy to deal with the usual conversation that followed either about a great-grandparent or uncle or _someone_ being Irish. He hoped this (admittedly _rather_ handsome) bartender wouldn’t start.  
  
“Huh, Irish. You've come a long way.” was all Clyde actually said, “Well, welcome to West Virginia.”  
  
Stensland smiled, a more genuine one this time - but Clyde could read people well enough when they knew they didn’t want to be talked to, so he milled back around, taking his time before reaching Grayson again.  
  
Truthfully - he really wanted to chat to the Irish guy, to hear more of his accent, but Clyde had a job to do, and a rather… persistent young woman to say a firm but gentle no to after coffee tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only assume that Earl runs a garage due to one scene in Logan Lucky with Jimmy and his daughter Sadie, so even if I'm wrong, it's pretty much going to just remain that way.  
> I'm going to do my best to be sensitive about Clyde's PTSD in future chapters, but just as a forewarning, Grayson has intentions of using it to her advantage.


	3. Chapter 3

Eleven o’clock rolled around, people milling out of the bar as it crept up, until Clyde was left with his brother, Sylvia and Grayson.  
Mellie left with Joe a little while prior, but there was a look in her eyes that Clyde knew she was suspicious about something. Even the Irish guy had left with Earl after _quite_ a few beers and two cocktails, and had been quite taken by how Clyde made them. Clyde even made the extra effort in the second cocktail, giving the redhead a smile as he did so.  
  
Despite an otherwise pleasant, quiet evening, Stensland kept to himself in the corner in his black and grey tracksuit and left a grateful tip as a thank you.  
Clyde on the other hand was just sorry he didn’t even get his name despite the snatches of conversation they had.  
It was explained that Stensland’s car had broken down and Earl had offered to tow it, but that was about as much as Clyde could get out of him. Where he was going, where he was staying was all a mystery, and the bartender almost felt like Grayson with wanting to _know more_.  
It was rare when he’d felt so taken by someone, but…  
Well, Clyde figured he could get Earl to introduce him later if his car wasn’t doing great, he’d have to get another car. Maybe stay a while?  
  
Clyde felt the night turn a little for the better. A little.  
  
During this, Grayson had purposefully stopped drinking, switching to water to remain sharp. She waited at the counter as Clyde tidied up, and was declined when she offered to help. Jimmy however stood up and helped regardless, leaving Sylvia and Grayson on the opposite ends of the counter looking at each other until Sylvia got up to join Grayson.  
  
“So, you got your eye on Clyde?” she smiled, friendly, “You’ve been chattin’ him up all night.”  
  
“I’ve been caught it seems.” Grayson smiled back, “Can you blame me though?”  
  
Sylvia leaned on the counter with one hand, the other on her hip and looked at the Logan brothers with fondness. Jimmy flicked water at Clyde from a mop bucket, and Clyde in turn threw his cloth at him, grunting about throwing him out of the bar.  
  
“Nope.” Sylvia gave a smiling laugh, “I sure can’t.”  
  
“Ms. Sylvia, m’am, I don’t question your tastes,” Clyde called, and had Jimmy in an effortless headlock now, “But you _sure_ about datin’ this idiot?”  
Jimmy’s voice was muffled, kicking and trying to smack Clyde in letting go.  
  
“Pretty sure.” she called, “Jimmy let your brother clean the bar for God’s sake, Clyde’s got a date waitin’!”  
  
The horseplay quickly came to a stop when they heard the violent roar of an engine outside, and not long after, raised voices.  
  
Earl had left to get his pickup truck, insisting that it’d be safer in his garage than right in the middle of the bar’s parking lot. A little wary, Stensland waited, leaning against the fence and watching the scenery.  
It was a warm night, lights of cars and buildings in the distance. For a brief moment, Stensland thought of the handsome bartender inside, realising he’d become quite taken with the man.  
However, Stensland withheld conversation, not wanting to get attached like he _always_ did with people who were nice to him. It wasn’t the time right now, he had to keep moving until it felt safe to settle down and start again.  
Besides, that bartender looked like too nice a guy for a mess like him.

His last crush had been his old housemate Lyle, but the guy had a girlfriend, and was as straight as an arrow.  
  
Still, Stensland’s drunk thoughts wandered.  
  
... _Clyde_ he thought he heard his name was?  
  
Stensland let a long, weary sigh at just about starting all over again, and firmly put Clyde out of his mind. He had to, for his own good, and even remembered his own words with Grady on their first night out:  
  
_Bartenders flirt for tips, they can’t be prospects._  
  
As much as Stensland was so glad to have Morgan and Grady out of his life, whether he’d fixed their marriage or not, he wished he could be back in Vancouver again. Life there had been a little bit bumpy, but it was normal. Safe.  
  
Stensland now had to think of a whole set of new lies, maybe even a new name just for the sake of throwing the locals off - wherever he eventually settled down.  
  
Pity, he’d liked the name Stensland.  
  
Stensland’s thoughts were then abruptly interrupted as an expensive sports car violently screeched into the parking lot of the bar.  
Two guys climbed out, looking directly at Stensland, before looking at each other. Stensland straightened, very quickly sobering up at the very possibility that he might’ve been followed all the way here -  
But, the car had some sort of… drink advertisement on it in black and red garish colours, and the two were dressed in leathers - all show and no substance.  
  
Stensland looked away, head down, folding his arms. They didn’t _look_ like who he thought they were, but neither did they look particularly friendly.  
They started to walk towards the bar, before one smirked at Stensland.  
  
“Hey gingercake,” he snickered with a whistle. Stensland couldn’t roll his eyes harder, but didn’t rise to the jibe.  
“C’mon Alex we got business here,” the other chided, before finding the door wouldn’t open, “Fuck.”  
  
“Lights’re still on.” the one called Alex pointed out, before looking at his colleague knowingly. He stepped down the stairs leisurely, and Stensland felt the short hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.  
  
“Hey, carrot top, that one-armed bartender still inside?” Alex asked, “You’d better scram, or there’ll be trouble.”  
  
Stensland raised an eyebrow, turning his head to look at the two. Why were they interested in Clyde? Something told him this wasn’t a _friendly_ call by the looks of it.  
  
“I’m waiting on a lift.” Stensland said firmly, though the rest of him already felt like jelly. He _hated_ confrontation. Trouble however always seemed to go looking for him.

“Hey, I said _scram_.” Alex warned, then he and his colleague both stood to flank Stensland. It occured to Stensland that they possibly didn’t want witnesses to whatever they were going to do.  
  
“No, I’m staying right here and waiting for my lift.” Stensland snapped, though his heart began to hammer in his chest, “Now _fuck off_.”  
  
The last time he’d gotten into a fight was all thanks to Grady, and Stensland was in no rush to have a repeat of it.  
  
“Listen Irish, you friends with those _Logan_ pricks?” the other snapped, “Cause if so, you certainly aren’t a friend of ours.”  
  
“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Stensland tried to start moving away slowly, “So, look, I don’t want trouble - ”  
  
“What say we teach this ginger shit a lesson about doing as he’s _told,_  Tom?”  
  
It was then the door audibly unlocked, and Jimmy swung the door open with a bang.  
  
“The hell you two doin’ here again?” Jimmy suddenly hollored, pointing at the two as he stepped out, “You bastards are barred from this property!”  
  
Clyde appeared at the door after Jimmy, before suddenly reaching an arm out to stop Grayson and Slyvia passing through. He gently pushed Grayson back in with the back of his arm.  
  
“Ladies, stay here n’ lock the door.” he said, voice leaving no room for argument.  
  
“Clyde?” Sylvia called out, Grayson only narrowing her eyes at the interruption, recognising Max Chilblain’s two idiots always following him around. She gripped Clyde’s arm for show, hiding her face behind him lest they spot her. They’d give her away instantly.  
  
“Got a little problem to take care of.” Clyde explained, easing his arm from Grayson’s grip and walking towards the group. Sylvia then took Grayson’s hand, pulling her back inside and locking the door as Clyde instructed.

“We’ll call the cops if this gets serious.” she said, and both women looked out the window, “Those _dumbasses_.”  
  
“Who are they?” Grayson asked, feigning ignorance.  
  
“Just a buncha rich jerks the Logans had a run in some months ago.” Sylvia explained. Grayson only hummed, remembering the report about how Clyde had tossed a molotov cocktail into their expensive truck after Max had made a fool of himself.

He was pretty _good_ at that.  
Despite that Clyde had been charged with destruction of the car, it seemed Max wasn’t content to leave it at that. Her sharp eyes turned back to the window and watched the situation unfold.  
  
“You leave him be, he’s just a customer!” Jimmy march-limped down the stairs, and Clyde followed suit, unclipping his prosthetic, too expensive to damage and felt it wasn’t worth wasting on these two losers.  
He quickly tossed it to Stensland, only thinking afterwards that that might’ve _not_ been the best first impression - but it was a little late now for that.  
Stensland caught it, letting the two brothers stand in front of him.  
  
“C’mon gingersnap, show us you’re a _fightin’ Irish!”_ Tom goaded, “Hiding behind these two hicks like a little bitch!”  
  
“Oh come _on_ \- ! What are you, five?” Stensland scoffed, thoroughly annoyed now, but really just wanted to get the hell out of here, the car be damned, “Besides, I’m really more of a pacifist.”  
  
He couldn’t really run now though, he had Clyde’s metal arm pressed to his chest. A little part of him almost felt like he was being rescued by a handsome stranger, until another part of him told Stensland to _grow up_.  
  
“We got a bone to pick with you,” Tom’s lip curled in a snarl, pointing at Clyde, “You still owe us a new car after the one you blew up.”  
  
“He’s already served time for yer damn car,” Jimmy fisted both hands, “It was ugly as shit anyways.”  
  
“Like you two,” Clyde sniffed, “ _And_ your boss.”  
  
“Fuck you!” Alex shouted, stepping up to throw a punch at Clyde first - who easily sidestepped and grabbed Alex’s wrist. He mercilessly twisted it around and kicked the back of Alex’s knee to make him fall. Alex let a yell of pain, but the move stopped him completely. If Clyde pulled any harder, he’d dislocate Alex’s arm.  
Tom shot past Jimmy - aiming to take Clyde out first while his one arm was occupied. He threw a punch, hitting Clyde in the jaw, but it didn’t seem to deter him at all, like punching a statue.  
Tom threw another punch, this time missing as Clyde swerved -  
  
The fist went flying right past Clyde’s face, and right into Stensland’s nose - who unwisely had been standing a little bit too close to Clyde.  
  
Stensland dropped like a pile of bricks, dust poofing up from under him as he hit the ground. The prosthetic rolled out of his grip. Clyde let go of Alex, and Jimmy let an angry shout, grabbing Alex by his jacket and bodily throwing him into the sportscar, throwing the first punch.  
Clyde saw red, and without even thinking about it, clamped a hand onto Tom’s neck and gave a solid headbutt into his face, dark hair flying.  
It was enough to knock Tom back, blood spurting from his nose and from between his fingers as he held his face. He stumbled against the fence, moaning horribly in sheer pain.  
  
Jimmy had Alex pinned to the car, and given him three solid punches to keep him where he was. When Alex raised his hands in surrender, did Jimmy let him slide off the car.  
  
“Get the hell outta here!” Jimmy barked, “Now!”  
  
Alex scrambled to grab Tom and pulled him towards the car.  
  
“We’re not done you one-handed freak!” Alex pointed angrily, before quickly climbing into the car. Tom gave the two brothers a bloody middle finger before following suit. The car backed out with no consideration to anyone else on the road, and sped away noisily, the sound being heard for miles around.  
  
Jimmy watched them leave with a scowl, but found that Clyde was already on one knee, a hand under Stensland’s neck.  
  
“Hey, hey, you alright?” Clyde called out, “Can y’hear me?”  
  
Stensland only groaned, one eye sliding open before the other did. Blood dribbled out of his nose.  
  
“.... hey handsome.” Stensland gurgled, before green eyes rolled back into his head.  
  
It was then Sylvia suddenly brushed past Grayson, unlocking the door and ran out.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This ](https://cdn.evoke.ie/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/09175729/Domhnall-Gleeson-rex.jpg)  
>  is what Stensland currently looks like after shaving his hair for practical reasons. I promise his hair will grow back to that big floof we all know and love.
> 
> Lastly, Alex and Tom are the names of the actors who accompanied Max in the movie, they weren't given character names.


	4. Chapter 4

Stensland’s nose thankfully wasn’t broken, but Sylvia was more concerned when he’d smacked his head off the ground and didn’t get up.  
  
“Who’s the current president?” Sylvia asked softly.  
  
Stensland thought she had a nice smile, though he could’ve done without the small torch shining in his eyes. She’d already asked his name and age, merely checking cognition.  
His head hurt like hell, pain behind his eyes. He felt heavy and sleepy and _quite_ drunk.  
Why oh _why_ did these things keep happening to him, he lamented.  
Stensland groaned a little in reply, lying on a table back inside the bar.  
His head had been propped up on a rolled up jacket, tissue up one nostril. Clyde and Jimmy stood close by, and out of the corner of his eye, Stensland could see that Clyde had put his prosthetic back on.  
He had a vague recollection of being lifted like he was nothing, feeling a heartbeat against his ear and the brush of hair on his face. That had felt rather nice.  

“An orange.” Stensland grunted painfully as he remembered to answer Sylvia, accent a little thicker than usual, “Or a pumpkin, I’m not sure. T’is not Obama anyway.”

She gave a short laugh, two fingers on his wrist, “Close enough.”

Then Sylvia looked up at the Logans, “He'll be okay, but I think he ought to stay somewhere to be kept an eye on.” 

“He can take my bed,” Jimmy offered, before looking at Clyde, “You all right with that?”

Clyde nodded, more than happy to have _something_ take him away from Grayson. He felt a little bit bad, she did seem genuinely nice, but…  
  
He quickly turned away, like he remembered something, “Be right back.”  
  
Sylvia shared an amused look with Jimmy, but upon seeing his jaw tighten, Sylvia’s smile fell a little, and turned back to focus on Stensland.

Walking back outside, Clyde spotted Grayson with her back to the bar, arms crossed as she watched Earl work. She turned on her heel as Clyde approached her, giving him an expectant look. There was a staunchness to her, back straight. Almost military-like.  
It had caught Clyde’s eye - he could almost discern military from civilian most of the time, but she’d declined having been with the army at all when he’d asked. What she actually did was still a mystery, but he reckoned it was more than _office work..._

Clyde cleared his throat, head bowed a little as he approached her, “Sorry about all that, Ms. Grayson.”

She shifted her weight a little, looking bemused, “You certainly rise to the occasion don't you.”

He inhaled, expecting a lecture. Clearly, leaving a lady waiting was quite the impolite thing to do.  
Grayson couldn’t help but be taken by his dark-eyed gaze that looked at her full of guilt, almost charmed. _Almost_.  
  
“Trouble looks for me I s’pose.” he sighed.

She let a soft laugh, before uncrossing her arms, “You're pretty brave.”

It wasn’t quite a false compliment, he’d disposed of the two in a rather effective manner. Even if the headbutt was a little bit over the top, the fool deserved it regardless. Grayson found herself even feeling rather impressed.

“Well,” Clyde flushed, surprised that she wasn’t actually angry - though out of habit, and perhaps some self-consciousness, he seemed to shrink his shoulders, trying to appear smaller, “I _was_ a soldier. I didn’t exactly want to hurt ‘em - just stop ‘em.”

“The guy inside going to be all right?” Grayson nodded towards the doorway. The redhead’s condition didn't especially concern her, but it would do to show some.

While the interruption was annoying, it was also far too much of a close call, instead grateful that the redhead had distracted the two.  
If Max’s entourage came for round three, or even pressed assault charges - Grayson knew she couldn’t stay any longer. Her cover would be blown, and headquarters would reprimand her for taking the unsolved heist case into her own hands, making it personal.  
Still, there was a strong possibility they also might not - the two had purposefully stepped on property they knew they were barred from. That only meant they were most _certainly_ looking for trouble.  
  
Grayson decided to bide her time for now. She had to get Clyde _away_ from his business if this was to work.

“Yeah, he'll stay with me fer tonight,” Clyde looked towards the door too, before he felt a hand on his flesh arm. He turned back to look down at Grayson, and held his breath.    
She stood close, smiling sweetly up at him. He didn’t move, but there was a sudden anticipation there.  
Clyde really didn’t want her to kiss him, especially when he was feeling his nerves slowly start to fray - trapped in the pocket of space between them.  
  
Grayson seemed to hold that space for a few seconds, like she was gauging the appropriateness of the situation - but then didn’t kiss him.  
He looked like a frightened deer now, despite taking two men down only minutes before. It wasn’t quite the right time.

“Let's postpone that coffee for later on this week.” Grayson smiled, her face close to his before pulling away slowly, “On me.” 

 _You're_ **_not_ ** _getting away that easily._  

“Uh, sure, okay.” Clyde nodded, not really thinking right there and then as Jimmy and Sylvia helped Stensland walk out, his arms over their shoulders. Clyde stepped away from Grayson’s touch as if he were avoiding barbed wire, and quickly moved towards the three.

“Easy now, you hit your head _pretty_ hard.” Sylvia said, patting Stensland’s shoulder.  
  
“I can take him home from here,” Clyde offered, wanting to concentrate on anywhere but where he was right there and then.  
  
Once down the stairs, Jimmy and Sylvia let go of Stensland slowly.  
  
“You _sure_ you can walk?” Jimmy asked, and not for the first time.  
Stensland brushed dust off his tracksuit, wobbled a little, but then straightened up, “Grand out! Sorry about all this, Mister, uh…?”  
  
“Jimmy Logan,” Jimmy outstretched his hand, before nodding towards Clyde, “An’ my little brother.”  
  
“ _Little_ brother, indeed.” Stensland gave a small laugh, and something about it made Clyde feel a little better, even if by now he knew he probably wasn’t going to sleep well tonight.  
  
“I didn't catch your name,” Stensland said, breaking Clyde from his thoughts, “It's bad form not to know the name of my rescuers.”

Clyde let a short laugh, “Clyde. Clyde Logan.”

“Well, Clyde Clyde Logan,” Stensland laughed, “I owe you one. I’m Stensland.”

  
Whether it was a first or second name, Clyde took it nonetheless without question. When Stensland extended his hand, Clyde for a moment only saw Stensland when they shook hands. Silly as he looked with a tissue up his nose, dust all over his black tracksuit, and red hair sticking up from the scuffle, Stensland had… _something_ that drew Clyde to him.  
  
Stensland found Clyde’s grip strong and firm, but… friendly. He tried not to look at Clyde’s chocolate eyes too long, taken by how warm they were. This was merely a simple rescue, some kind folks helping out.  
Nothing more.  
At least, Stensland forced himself to believe such a thing even when the handshake lingered a little longer than was normal.  
  
“And of course, for making sure I didn’t crack my head open,” Stensland quickly turned to Sylvia, “Thank you too.”  
  
“Sylvia Harrison,” she introduced, shaking his hand too and then patting his shoulder, “You take care of that nice red head of yours now.”

“I’ve had worse, believe me,” Stensland joked, and wished it could’ve truly been one, before he looked at Clyde. They were almost the same height, though Clyde’s build made him so much more imposing.  
Handsome though, much as Stensand told himself to stop letting his dick guide his thoughts.   
  
But, he _was._    
It was merely fact.  
  
Clyde’s hair just touched his shoulders, wavy and thick and begging to have fingers brush through them. He also had the most expressive eyes that Stensland had ever seen, and found he had to avert his own downwards to stop staring.  
  
Grayson watched from afar, before her attention was caught by the taxi she’d called pulling into the bar. Clyde turned to see her climb in, and he awkwardly raised a hand in farewell. He really wasn’t sure if she was annoyed or not despite the plans of coffee later on in the week, but the secrecy surrounding her was putting him on edge. She gave a nod and a smile from the window, face unreadable.  
  
They watched the taxi drive away before Earl was next to divert the group’s attention, banging a fist on his tow truck.  
  
“Come by tomorrow evenin’ if you need anythan’ Stens.” he called, before switching the machine on to lift the scrappy vehicle onto his truck. There was some hesitation as Stensland watched it being lifted into the tow, lips parting to say something.  
  
He figured he’d been out cold for perhaps a handful of minutes, and upon waking up - the two leather clad morons had vanished, replaced with Earl who was diligently hooking up his now quite dead car to be towed.  
It occured to Stensland in mild panic that he should’ve taken the money out of the car while he’d been alone. Too late now. He had money on his person, but at this moment in time, for all Stensland knew - he could have five, or five hundred dollars, and he couldn’t exactly check _now._  
  
Earl had already looked at the engine and deemed it pretty much dead, and he felt leaving it here wouldn’t be safe - but… Stensland thought, if Earl looked inside the car…  
No, he couldn’t make a scene - well, _anymore_ than had already happened.  
  
Then Stensland felt a strong, warm hand on his shoulder, jarring him from his thoughts.  
  
“You all right?” Clyde asked, squeezing his shoulder, “D’you need something from the car?”  
He was normally not a very physical person, but cited his reason being that Stensland was a bit unsteady on his feet, and _was_ still drunk. That was Clyde’s reason, and he was going to firmly stick to it.  
  
“Uh, no, it’s okay, I’ll get it tomorrow, or um, well,” Stensland started, “I…”  
  
“Earl’ll take it to his garage and it’ll be safe there,” Jimmy assured, “You can trust him, he’s a close friend of ours.”  
  
Stensland could only agree, even if his nails were by now scratching the skin of his palms almost painfully. How _would_ one explain just casually driving across country with thousands of dollars?  
  
After bidding Jimmy and Sylvia goodnight, and watching Earl drive away with his car stuffed with banknotes, did Stensland find himself alone with Clyde and his own car - an old but well loved red cadillac model.  
Stensland licked his lip, tasting dried blood and grimacing at the bitter tang. He gingerly pulled the tissue out of his nose, touching his nose gently before looking at the bartender.  
  
“Thanks for saving my arse,” he sighed, “Honestly, I dunno what those prick’s problems were. I was just standin' there waiting for Earl!”  
  
Clyde opened the passenger’s door, giving Stensland an apologetic smile, “Little… problem we had some months ago. Nothin’ to worry about. C’mon, it’s late.”  
  
“Yes, of course, thanks.” Stensland nodded, and climbed into the car.  
  
The drive was mostly silent, Stensland watching the scenery as Clyde drove, occasionally hearing his prosthetic whir a little while steering.    
The lights were worryingly blurry, making him feel sleepy. Exhausted from so much driving, fractured sleep, and constantly being on edge - all Stensland wanted to do was sleep for a solid month.

Clyde in turn didn't say much, focusing on getting them back to the trailer.  
  
Not long after Stensland had gone to bed, double checking he was comfortable and in a deep drunk sleep, did Clyde go outside and wait for the waves of panic to pass. He was getting better at dealing with it, but tonight - the fight with the two felt like he’d barely managed.

Felt like the first time he'd been discharged from hospital and left a wreck of his former self.  
  
He knew he wasn’t going to sleep well, and he was unfortunately right.  
Despite the gentle nudging from Sylvia here and there, he didn’t want to take medication for the nightmares.  
_Certainly_ not therapy. He would deal with this like a man, like Jimmy.  
  
The cold air helped, but everything had started to hurt not long after Clyde pulled up to the trailer. He’d hyper focused on helping Stensland to bed, only showing him where the bathroom was before bringing him to Jimmy’s now bare room.  
Clyde had kept it clean, but it had left an unsettled feeling in his stomach that he was now completely alone without his older brother. He’d helped Stensland take his jacket off, but that was about as much as he allowed himself to do before leaving the redhead splayed on the bed, a blanket over him.  
  
Clyde knew he shouldn't have felt better with another person back in the trailer again, but he did.  
Stensland was light enough to half-carry as he seemed to just lose himself into sleepiness, mumbling about getting the car tomorrow, apologising for ‘being a bother’ -

Clyde hadn't forgotten being called _handsome_ though, and felt ridiculous holding onto that moment despite that it was helping him remain calm. Mostly.

He'd taken off his prosthetic, feeling like his arm was on fire despite that it looked perfectly fine. The star-shaped scar was tingling horribly, a disembodied sense of clenching his now gone fist.

He stood there holding the prosthetic by the hand, eyes closed, and secretly pretended it was someone else’s hand - Jimmy’s, Mellie’s - even Stensland’s.

He'd only just met the guy, and Clyde was fully conscious of how almost desperate he felt with wanting him to stay.

He thought of Grayson’s words, and she was right.

It did get lonely. He _was_ lonely.

But, Jimmy had Sadie, now Sylvia. While Mellie had always been independent, she checked on Clyde often anyway. Now there was Joe.

Everyone had someone.

Clyde looked at his arm, feeling the pins and needles again as he wished there was a hand to clench, and resisted the sudden urge to hurl his prosthetic across the yard.

Instead, he sat heavily on the dry grass, forehead on his knees.

After a while, he allowed himself to imagine Stensland embracing him before finally trudging inside, dark hair curtaining his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earl definitely has a garage - it's evident on his clothing. Rewatched Logan Lucky, _again_ just out of curiosity.
> 
> Updates might be a little slower for a bit as I've a friend visiting for a few days, but I have Chapters 5 mostly done (needs a lot of editing), and 6 in the works. After that, it's a question of what I want to include or not.  
> I currently have no basis for how many chapters this could be.


	5. Chapter 5

Stensland started to feel like he really shouldn’t get used to waking up with a sore face and a hangover, but this felt all too familiar.  
He blinked awake, before quickly sitting up and realising he was somewhere he didn't recognise at _all_.

His shoes and jacket had been removed to let him sleep more comfortably, seeing them on a chair by the door.

Though whether that had been himself or someone else, Stensland couldn't remember. At least, he thought, he still had his pants on. That was not something Stensland wanted a repeat of _anytime_ soon.

Almost bolting up, the shot of pain in his head advised him otherwise, and for a moment Stensland had to hold his head like it was about to explode. He tried not to think, or breathe or move. Then when he was sure his head wasn't going to blow up, did Stensland climb to his feet. Still a little unsteady, but he was upright. Kind of.  
He shuffled towards the chair, relenting to almost half-fall back onto the floor, and pulled the shoes over.  
Lifting two thick soles on the inside, he breathed a little sigh of relief. The banknotes folded in half and wrapped in freezer bags were still there. He could only fit five hundred in fifties and twenties per shoe.  
Then he checked the jacket, his main pockets only holding his passport and miniscule wallet with a few dirty dollars inside and his Canadian driver’s license. Sewn inside the jacket however with a hidden zip were another two thousand dollars, again folded flat in freezer bags to protect them from sweat.  
The dollar bills themselves were pristine and fresh, unlike Stensland’s current appearance.  
He was rather afraid to look in a mirror this time, still feeling his nose sting lightly as he breathed.  
  
Stensland suddenly froze hearing the shuffling of feet in the hallway, and was reminded that he still didn’t know where _exactly_ in West Virginia he was, or even who’s home he fell unconscious in.    
Quickly setting everything back in place, he painfully climbed to his feet, feeling like an old man. There was a light knock on the door, and Stensland moved to sit back on the edge of the bed.  
  
“Uh… come in?” he called. The door slipped open with hesitation, before opening fully, and Stensland could hear mechanical whirring. Standing at the doorway was a tall, very tall, broad shouldered man with a metal hand. He stood there in silence, and despite his massive frame, seemed to shrink a little, like he was shy. He also looked pale and tired.  
  
It took Stensland a few seconds to realise that this was the handsome bartender from last night.  
  
“... Clyde?” Stensland recalled, and everything in his universe slotted itself messily back into place. Clyde’s lip twitched a bit, before the tip of his tongue poked out to wet them.  
  
“Mornin’ - ” he greeted, voice low and warm, “You feelin’ okay?”  
  
Stensland certainly didn’t _look_ okay. His red hair was askew, his nose was still a little red, a yellowing bruise over his left nostril, and his clothes were dusty and rumpled.  
  
“Bit sore, but sure, I’ll be grand.”  
  
The euphemism made Clyde frown a little, certain it was likely some kind of Irish slang, “‘Grand’?”  
  
“Sorry! Uh, means I’m fine. _Grand_ is a bit like the word fuck, it’s got multiple uses - ”  
  
… Why, Stensland asked himself, did he decide to choose such a word there and then?  
  
He quickly stopped, inhaled, and sucked in his lip with embarrassment, “Anyway… uh, this your place?”  
  
Clyde nodded once, “You hungry? I’ve got breakfast on.”  
  
Stensland could only smile, and rather loved how Clyde said _breakfast_ in his accent, leaving out the last letter.  
  
_“Starving."_  
  
He made to stand, and gaze falling, noticed that Clyde had changed to a faded t-shirt and shorts, barefoot, so Stensland opted to keep just his socks on. Maybe West Virginians did the Japanese thing with shoes - he’d no idea. He knew nothing about the State. It did feel pretty damn warm though.  
  
It was hard to also not notice those rather nice long calves of Clyde’s…  
  
_Stop it._  
  
Stensland stood up, and the room was suddenly off-kilter. Clyde took all of two long steps and had a strong grip on his arm.  
  
“Easy, you all right?” Clyde leaned down a little, again, like he was trying to make himself smaller. Stensland found it endearing, looking at Clyde’s dark eyes that seemed to convey a million things at once. It was held for a long second before the gaze was broken by both of them, falling to the floor.   
  
Then Stensland leaned a little against Clyde rather gratefully, “I think I hit my head a little harder than I thought. The copious amounts of drink probably also didn’t help.”  
  
“You sure did drink a lot, I won’t lie.” Clyde huffed, but a smile was tugging at his lips again, tone good-natured. He began to coax Stensland out of the room and into the hallway, opting to lean a wide palm on his shoulder to keep him steady.  
  
“I’m Irish, what’d you expect?” Stensland laughed a little, trying to inject his usual humourous energy into it, but found himself feeling utterly exhausted.  
Then the smell of breakfast hit him, and his stomach spent several seconds deciding if it wanted to be fed, or emptied.  
Seeing Stensland’s face go pale - pal _er_ , even, did Clyde guide him to the dining table in the corner.  
  
“You don’t look so good,” Clyde, “Want me to call Sylvia?”  
  
_Sylvia_. Who was Sylvia again?  
  
He was pretty sure she didn’t punch him either, so she must’ve helped him.  
  
“Oh! No, no, I’ll be fine, honestly, I’ve woken up in much worse situations!” Stensland quickly said, “I once woke up in my apartment hallway with no pants on!”  
  
Clyde’s expression was mixed - head tilting, and he looked like a cross between a bear and a labrador, Stensland wasn’t sure which, and found the description utterly stupid. That, and his quick quip of trying to be funny was even _more_ stupid. Clyde only moved back to the tiny kitchenette to turn the heat back on for breakfast, though the eggs and bacon were almost cooked anyway.  
  
“You sound like you get yourself into some predicaments,” Clyde almost laughed as he edged the food around the pan. Stensland slid to lean on the chair, and found himself touching his lip, unconsciously looking at Clyde again. He was quite a majestic mountain. In a t-shirt and shorts.  
  
Clyde’s tone was laced with familiarity, “You almost sound as bad as Jimmy.”  
  
Jimmy. Jimmy was…  
  
“Your... brother, right?” Stensland frowned at the ceiling, “Oh _man -_ I can’t quite remember all of last night, and I’m wondering if I even want to. I do apologise for being such a bother.”  
  
Clyde only shook his head, hair fluttering a little, “Wasn’t yer fault. We had trouble with those guys months ago. How’d you like your bacon?”  
  
Stensland wanted to ask  _who_ until food was suddenly the topic again, and his stomach flipped once more, “Uh, well done, please, if you like them that way.”  
  
“I like ‘em burnt.” Clyde nodded, “Jimmy hates it, says it tastes like charcoal.”  
  
“So, Jimmy’s… your brother - he live here with you?” Stensland looked around, “Oh God, I hope I didn’t take him from his bed.”  
  
“No,” Clyde replied, and was suddenly focused on his task, “He don’t live here anymore.”  
  
Stensland looked at that long expanse of back muscle, noting the hutched up tension of his shoulders, and Clyde moving the sizzling bacon around like it was a delicate procedure.  
  
“Oh.” was all Stensland could say, and mentally kicked himself. In the trailer - Stensland now realised it was a trailer and not a _house_ house, silence fell between the two except for the pan sizzling.  
He suddenly felt like apologising, knowing this silence too well. In, well, what was now his old life - when Morgan revealed her cruel true intentions and Lyle had moved out, Stensland had spent… he wasn’t sure (days, a week?) just eating trash, smoking pot and trying not to exist.  
The loneliness had been unbearable. He could feel it in the air surrounding the whole trailer.  
  
“I do miss him, but, he got other things goin’ on.” Clyde suddenly broke him from his thoughts, and there was a hesitation in his voice, like he wasn’t sure if he should even say such a thing. His accent lilted his tone, occasionally making it tremble.  
  
“Well,” Stensland leaned over the table to look out across the fields to get an idea of where he was, “All the way out here… yeah, I’d imagine it’s lonesome. Peace and quiet is nice n'all, but it’s better when you’ve got someone to enjoy it with.”  
  
Eyebrows raised a little, Clyde turned his head a little to look at Stensland through a strand of long dark hair, eyes studious. With the way he was leaning over the table, there was a weird wiry look to the Irishman, all long boney limbs, yet a softness that made him surprisingly easy to talk to.  
Talking was part of being a bartender, and it had done wonders for Clyde’s non-existent social skills. The army had given him abilities to be functional, more than his mommy had taught him - how to be presentable and professional. Even if he grew his hair well beyond regulation, it was still brushed and blow dried properly. Appearance was important, an easy mask to slip into. His brief life in the army had given him routine.  
However - at the end of the day, talking and socialising was only for his job. Outside of that, Clyde still mumbled to the floor at new people, and Jimmy would have to translate.  
  
Since his move to Lynchburg, the only people Clyde saw since were just customers, and a nice old lady at the register that didn’t mind his mumbling when he had to venture out for groceries.  
  
Clyde pushed all those thoughts aside, and instead pushed the tray of plated food and brewed coffee onto the table. Stensland apologised for not helping, though both knew it was merely politeness as there was no way he was still steady enough on his feet. It concerned Clyde, but he figured it was likely just a really bad hangover. He was pretty sure the advil in the bathroom was still in date.  
  
“I’ll make you an Irish breakfast tomorrow when my head’s not all over the gaff,” Stensland offered, before quickly realising what he was insinuating, “I mean, uh, well, not that I’m suggesting I’m allowed another night - um, sorry, I’ll find a hotel - ”  
  
“You can stay as long as y’like, it’s all right,” Clyde assured, knowing also what he too was insinuating. Already he felt better just _having_ someone share the table, having someone to eat breakfast with. Some mornings, he’d just didn’t even bother. It made the bacon go bad though, so he started to buy a little less.  
  
Stensland rubbed the back of his head, before raking a hand through his tatty hair. He winced as a digit pulled on a knot, and made his headache worse.  
Clyde looked at him curiously, before Stensland leaned forward and the morning sun made his hair shine copper, and his eyes a sea-green. Clyde allowed himself a moment to look at them.   
  
“Thank you, I really do appreciate it.”  
  
“It’s no trouble,” Clyde picked up a piece of burnt bacon and chewed it with a small smile, a little spread of warmth in his chest at the heartfelt tone in Stensland’s voice.  
  
They ate in companionable silence, despite only knowing each other for mere hours, it felt like this was something they always did, and both men privately pretended it was.  
A short while of quiet and domestic simplicity, and the world outside the trailer didn’t matter.  
  
Clyde eventually picked up a utensil by his plate that had caught Stensland’s eye, but in the way a bird flying overhead would, and noticed now that it was designed for one-handed people. His metal hand was a passing curiosity, but Stensland was unbothered by its appearance. Living in Vancouver had little surprising him anymore.

From what Stensland _could_ remember of last night, Clyde had mixed several drinks with ease, making the whole thing almost a show of his bartending abilities despite having only one hand.  
He hoped he hadn’t said anything stupid like _that’s handy_ while sloshed - but seemed he was safe if Clyde hadn’t been the one who punched him.  
  
When they finished breakfast, Stensland felt heaps better. His head still hurt, but at least he didn’t feel like throwing up.  
  
“D’you want a shower?” Clyde offered, sitting up a little straighter, “My clothes might not fit you, but they’ll do ‘til yours are clean.”  
  
“Oh! Oh no, I couldn’t impede anymore than I have,” Stensland raised his hands, until something on Clyde’s face made him rethink his words, the stare a little mesmerisingly intense,  
“But… I do probably also smell.”  
  
Clyde smiled, “You brought a bit of the bar’s land back with you.”

That made Stensland laugh softly, touching his tender nose with the pads of his fingers, and Clyde privately thought he had a very nice smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stensland will use some colloquialisms we use regularly here in Ireland.
> 
> Gaff = home, place.  
> Being 'all over the gaff' essentially just means Stensland is 'all over the place' - or you can refer to your home or someone else's home as 'Your gaff' 
> 
> ... I know, I know. 
> 
> I'm hoping to be back with regular updating again, but I've quite a lot mapped out now with a semi-straight line of how I want these chapters to go.


	6. Chapter 6

“So. Lemme get this right,” Clyde frowned as he drove, “You call pants _underwear_ , and you call what we refer to pants as _trousers_.”  
  
“Yep.” Stensland nodded once, a little bit of a goofy smile on his face. Clyde seemed to try and wrap his head around the slight differences in language, despite that they still both spoke _English_.  
  
Then he glanced briefly at Stensland, “... So, you were half-naked on yer floor in the apartment.”  
  
The smile faltered slightly, and Stensland flushed a little, “... _yeup.”_

Clyde could only make a soundless noise of laughter, exhaling through his nose,“You’re a character, Stensland.”  
  
The redhead only shrugged, “I’ve been called worse I suppose.”  
  
They made their way towards Earl’s garage, apparently in Blue Field Canyon Road.   
Stensland looking out across the wide stretch. West Virginia reminded him only a little bit of home, the odd time he went out into the countryside.  
  
Or, what they’d refer to as Not Dublin, anyway.  
  
Even if the landscape was almost completely different, it reminded Stensland of when he’d left. He’d been … so terrified that time. It felt longer than a few years, almost a lifetime ago, and found his thoughts drifting. Clyde had thankfully not really asked any questions about himself - and Stensland partly hoped that the barman was simply being nice. That he’d felt bad about … whoever the two were that attacked him last night, and once Stensland was sorted out - that would… be that.  
  
Stensland knew he couldn’t get attached. He would force himself not to. This place was probably rather conservative anyway, if it was as South as he thought.  
  
It was what excuses Stensland told himself anyway.  
  
While conversation with Clyde was easy, it drifted into another comfortable silence, the barmen assuming that Stensland was just taking in the scenery.  
  
He’d let Stensland borrow the smallest clothes he owned, and even then - he needed a belt, and that too was also a bit big. Clyde found it mildly odd that Stensland didn’t seem to even have an overnight bag, but chalked it down to perhaps that it was still in the broken down car.  
Clyde _was_ curious though, and wanted to ask more about Stensland. What did he do, where in Ireland was he from, was he just… passing through?  
  
Then he remembered Grayson, and his lip became a thin line. That was still a thing he had to deal with, preferably sooner rather than later.  
He glanced again at the redhead, and immediately almost smiled at how ridiculously big his shorts were on Stensland. He was bony in some parts, and then soft muscle in others. The plain old dark grey t-shirt hung off him like a tent, showing off a little more collarbone than Clyde had intentioned.  
Clyde wouldn’t admit that he found it rather funny how Stensland had to keep pulling the shorts up too, looking a bit bemused, yet accepting of the whole thing as he walked around the trailer. His legs were ridiculously pale, and his wet hair just stuck up everywhere. Clyde had to resist flattening down the copper mess, noting that Stensland seemed very passive about his overall appearance.  
  
Then something crossed Clyde’s mind.  
  
“Hey… Stensland? How’d you tell somebody… politely, that yer not interested in ‘em?”  
  
Stensland seemed to pause a moment, before giving Clyde a confused look. Surely the barman wasn’t already sick of him? Stensland was certain he hadn’t been flirting - unless… oh no, _oh no_ \- did he say something last night?!  
  
Before his sudden frantic thoughts could spill out into nonsensical babble, Clyde continued, clearing his throat.  
  
“I know it’s a bit… odd to ask you cause we only known each other less than a day, but, there’s a lady that’s sorta…”  
  
Stensland felt the tension bleed out of his body slowly, staring out at the road ahead of them. Okay. He was talking about someone else. Thank goodness. He’d had enough stabs to his self esteem in the last year.  
  
“Well, no surprises there - look at you!” Stensland gestured quickly, forcing the thoughts out of his head, “You’re built like a brick shithouse!”  
  
Clyde’s head jerked back a little in confusion, “....Thank you?”  
  
_So much for not flirting_ , Stensland thought, before quickly saving himself, “As for your lady problem, well - can’t say I’ve never been lucky enough to turn someone down, it’s usually the other way ‘round, and they haven’t been polite about it either.”  
  
Clyde glanced at him, surprised, “Oh, I’m sorry.”  
  
Stensland waved a hand, making a dismissed noise, “Eh… you get used to it. So. Why don’t you like this particular gal?”

Clyde tried to think of the politest way to describe Grayson, as at the heart of it all - he felt suspicious. The dust surrounding the heist had long since settled, but Clyde didn't like getting careless. Neither did Jimmy or Mellie.  
  
“... she’s a bit intense.” he said finally, “That and she ain’t my type.”  
  
“Oh lord, the kind that wants to be married in less than a year and have kids and the whole kitten caboodle?” Stensland offered.  
  
If only, Clyde felt.  
  
“Yeaaah, no,” Stensland gestured quickly, “Like, as much as I’d love a partner and strings and mutual adoration and all of that,”  
He shrugged, “If you’re not feelin’ it, then really… just tell her you’re not the one for her.”  
  
Then he laughed, “Unless you think she’d go crazy.”  
Stensland leaned on the window, a fist to his forehead, a little exasperated, “Man, do I know crazy…”  
  
Clyde blinked at the road, at Stensland, then at the road again, eyebrows high. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say to _that_ exactly, but it definitely seemed like Stensland had been around the block a lot more than he had.  
  
Stensland quickly shifted in his seat, pulling the waistband of his shorts up again, “Sorry, I ramble.”  
  
“It’s all right.” Clyde pulled to the left, “Sounds like you’d gotten your heart broken a few times though.”  
  
“You build up an immunity!” Stensland declared, and knew it was an outright lie, “... But I am a bit of a romantic, I can’t help it.”  
  
“Nothin’ wrong with that.” Clyde shrugged a little, “It's a nice trait to have.”

“Hm.” Stensland sighed, lips stretching into a thin line, “Fat lot of good it's done me…”

Clyde’s lips parted, but didn't know what to say. It was clear that there was more to Stensland, and his curiosity just swelled.

“Well -” he started, until he spotted the turnoff, "Oh, here we are.”

Stensland wondered what Clyde was going to say, but now - he had a different problem on his hands.

Earl greeted them as they got out of the car, and Stensland got a much better look at him.

“Hi Earl,” the redhead offered his hand, “Thanks again for helping me last night.”

“Nice shiner thar.” Earl took it with a cheeky smile.

“Isn’t it just.” Stensland touched his nose, but his lips were twitching. 

They followed Earl inside, the shorter man clapping a hand on Clyde’s shoulder with familiarity, uttering greetings.

Stensland reckoned it was unnecessary for them to say much - they seemed to know each other well.  
  
Once shown the car - Stensland pulled a huge duffle bag towards him, then a backpack, keeping his face completely straight.

Glancing up to see Earl and Clyde talking, he unzipped the bag a quarter way.

Piles of Ulysses S. Grant, and Benjamin Franklins stared up at him, and Stensland casually zipped it back up. Glancing again at the two again, Stensland quietly lifted a panel on the inside of the trunk. More Benjamins in zip lock bags were where he'd left them.

“Stens?” Earl called, and Stensland gently closed the panel again, popping his head out from behind the hood of the trunk.

“Yep, just, getting stuff from the boot,” he said quickly, and closed the lid. He tossed the backpack over his shoulder.

“... Whut?” Earl and Clyde shared a confused look.

Stensland pointed to the trunk, frowning slightly, “The… boot. The back of the car. Wait, hold on, you call it a _trunk_ , right?”

“Another one of them... Irishisms.” Clyde explained, waving his prosthetic a little, “They call underwear _pants_.”

“You a strange kid, Stens.” Earl laughed throatily.

Stensland forced a smile, closing the _boot_ firmly, “That I am.”  
  
The car was, in simple terms, absolutely fucked. As such, Stensland was even more fucked if he couldn't find a way to get all of the money out of the innards of said car without them noticing. He had a lot of the money in the duffle bag, but there was also a whole lot more in the car.

How would he talk Earl out of not scrapping it? He couldn't keep it in his garage either.  

“Hey, Earl?” Stensland’s grip on the duffle bag was white knuckled, “Where could I buy another car, kinda a throwaway one like this.”

_  
Preferably without much paperwork, and that accepts cash without questions. _

  
Earl scratched his cheek in thought, before glancing at Clyde. Clyde in turn, had not stopped looking at Stensland, stealing glances, giving a tiny smile once when caught.

“ _Well_ ,” Earl folded his arms, “Only reputable place I know is closed for a few days, manager’s on holidays. Errywhere else, nah.”

Stensland hummed, while cursing in his head.

He could get a taxi or borrow Clyde’s car, break into Earl’s garage later and get the rest of the money - it wouldn't be his first time picking locks.

Stensland felt bad, but his options were getting narrower.

He'd be in and out, as quick as he could.

“Well, if that's the case I can book into a hostel -” Stensland explained, deciding that his time with the barman had to end now, pleasant as it was.  
Earl moved to make Clyde say something, but was beaten to it.

“You can stay with me,” Clyde quickly said, “Save yer money. You'll need to if you want another car.”

Earl inhaled, smiling at the ground.

“No no, I've, I don't want to impede -” Stensland started, walking towards Clyde. Clyde in turn offered to take the bag, stretching out his flesh hand.

“I’d like the company.” he insisted, though was slightly embarrassed at how he'd blurted it out.

Stensland hesitated. He _needed_ to go to a hostel, get the rest of the money when the coast was clear, buy another car -

There was a brush of fingers on his hand, and Stensland got caught in Clyde’s dark gaze. He had gorgeous eyes - emotive and serious, yet so shy.

 _I can't get attached. Not again. I_ **_can't_** _._

Despite his better judgment, Stensland relented the bag to Clyde, smiling tightly at the floor, “Well… okay, I just don't want to be a hassle.”

“Okay, go’wan, you two have fun now, I gotta close up and do another pickup.” Earl suddenly started to shoo them out. Stensland's words didn't catch up with him, wanting to ask if the dead car could be kept there - but if Earl was closing up, perhaps he had time to come up with a different plan.

Once back on the road, Clyde noticed how quiet Stensland had fallen - this silence a whole other air he couldn't read. 

  
Stensland watched the road, mapping the route in his head.  
It wasn't going to be perfect, and he didn't have his phone anymore to use Google maps, but he'd always had a good memory. Plus, most American roads were straight - it was just the right turnoffs he needed to memorise.

“Hey. Um,” Clyde spoke up, looking a little bit sheepish, “You.. don't have to..to stay if you don't want to, I guess I just felt...be easier, n’cheaper, didn't want to force you - ”

Stensland quickly lit up, shaking his head, “Oh! No no, I just - no not at all! You've been so kind to me, I guess I'm just… uh,”

He looked between Clyde and the road, still committing the route to memory, “I… have had a bit of a rough few days, and this is a pleasant change.”  
He shoved hands between his thighs, shoulders hutching, “I'm actually super grateful.”

“Were you travelling or something?” Clyde asked, albeit also felt mildly rude for doing so.

Stensland, having thought ahead of time, knew he owed some sort of explanation to his handsome (no, _stop that_ ) saviour.

“Yes, I had a job offer that fell through last minute and I was pretty much… well, halfway on my trip back when the car just died.” Stensland explained, “I haven't really anywhere to actually go to be honest, had to give up my apartment.”

“Oh damn,” Clyde replied, “Well, you can stay as long as y’like, if you got no place to go.”

Stensland let a short laugh, before looking at Clyde, “Don't tempt me!”

The two shared a look that lingered a little longer than necessary, before Clyde quickly turned back to the road.   
  
“Well, I’m workin’ tonight at the bar again.” Clyde then suggested, “You’re welcome to come if you want.”  
  
Despite his better judgement, Stensland nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait - I'm hoping to get the next chapter up possibly this coming week, or sooner. 
> 
> This particular chapter I felt was my weakest so far, I struggled a little with it as while it progresses the story, nothing _really_ interesting happens. 
> 
> Also, Earl Knows Shit.


	7. Chapter 7

Clyde flicked on the jukebox, nodding once as the first song hummed to life after a few seconds of the old machine cranking up.  
  
_Don’t tempt me._  
  
Stensland had mentally kicked himself through their late lunch and into the rest of the evening, leaning against the counter watching Clyde. The lyrics filled the empty bar.  
  
“ _On the first part of the journey,_  
_I was looking at all the life.”_  
  
After a brief stop to the trailer for food and a quick change, Stensland was dressed in his own clothes now - basic black sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It was about as unremarkable and forgettable as Stensland intended, even if he missed his nice patterned shirts. When Clyde began to take the chairs down from the tables with one hand, Stensland straightened up to help him.  
  
“Oh, thank you.” Clyde smiled. Stensland gestured dismissively, trying to be casual. He might as well make himself useful.  
  
_“There were plants and birds. and rocks and things,_  
_There was sand and hills and rings._  
_The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz,”_  
  
Clyde was humming a little along with the song, Stensland half-taking in what was being sung as they worked, but he was enormously distracted with how Clyde just picked the surprisingly heavy furniture with his flesh hand like they were nothing.  
  
_“_ _and the sky with no clouds._  
_The heat was hot and the ground was dry,_  
_But the air was full of sound.”_  
  
Half the chairs were down now, the two men moving seamlessly between each other. They brushed shoulders at one point, and a thought suddenly crossed Clyde’s mind. He paused, considering his words, before Stensland noticed he’d stopped.  
  
“ _I've been through the desert on a horse with no name,_  
_It felt good to be out of the rain.”_  
  
“You got any bartending experience?” he asked, “Yer job fell through, after all.”  
  
Surprise lit up on Stensland’s face, the music still innocently playing in the background until the next words seemed to hit him.    
  
_“In the desert you can remember your name,_  
_‘Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain.”_  
  
Stensland resisted the urge to flick to another song, feeling like Mad Max Rockatansky. Trying to run away from his past in a beaten up car full of secrets, and ending up being saved by the kindness of strangers.  
  
“For serious?”  
  
Clyde nodded, and somehow unconsciously leaned back against the table with one hand, giving Stensland a full view of the shirt straining over his chest, “So do you?”  
  
The vocables of the song helped it disappear into the background as Stensland quickly considered his answer, not missing the body language.  
He stared very hard at the unlit neons on the wall, arms folded.  
  
“A little.” Stensland looked at the ground, giving a half-laugh at the irony of it was the first bit of truth he’d actually told Clyde since they’d met, “Used to bartend back at home.”

Bartending, amongst... other things.  
  
“A little will do,” Clyde nodded approvingly, “I’d feel bad fer you to just be stuck in the trailer alone, or just waitin’ on me to finish up here.”  
  
“What about this, though?” Stensland pointed to his still bruised face, not quite wanting to jump onto this opportunity with over eagerness.  
The reminder of it made Clyde frown, and dare Stensland think, appear a little guilty.  
  
“A topic of conversation,” Clyde tried to joke, though his tone was a little flat, serious, “No one’ll bother you too much, an’ they can deal with me if they do.”  
  
Stensland covered his sudden exasperation with a breathy laugh, touching Clyde’s arm with a gentle squeeze, “Whoa, no need. As long as I don’t scare your customers away!”  
  
Clyde gave a cheeky half-smile, moving towards the touch, “I think that’d be pretty difficult fer you to be scary.”  
  
“Hey!” Stensland exclaimed in mock-offence, a hand on his own chest, “I can be intimidating if I so wish!”

They were two steps apart, Stensland’s hand still on Clyde’s arm. Clyde hardly blinked, his gaze intense, yet somehow so emotional.

Stensland then took a step back with an inhale to pick up another chair, and Clyde sucked in his lips to suppress a smile, feeling his heart flutter a little. He felt foolish, but he also didn’t care.  
  
“As long as I’m not impeding,” Stensland said, quickly serious again, “I’m happy to help in the bar, y’know, for bed n’ board... ‘til I’m sorted.”  
  
Clyde paused, feeling rather foolish at the sudden reality that Stensland in his life was merely temporary, and how much it hurt. Rarely did he ever feel for someone outside of family and the few friends he had (even if the Bangs were a _stretch_ to call friends), but something about Stensland just… clicked.  
Even if he was drunk and flat on his back with a bleeding nose that night, Stensland had called him _handsome_.

Maybe it was an Irish thing - from the little (note: just St. Patrick’s Day) Clyde knew about Ireland, perhaps Irish people were just naturally more friendly. Even when he was drinking quietly, there was a natural, attractive warmth to him that Clyde felt drawn to.

With his siblings having found someone to be with, Clyde was merely being hopeful that the Logan Family Curse really had gone away, that maybe… it was his turn.  
  
“Course not,” Clyde insisted, until the squeaking door interrupted what he was going to say next - _stay awhile._  
  
Jimmy wandered in, and confusion crossed Clyde’s face.

“Hey,” Clyde called, stepping forward, “I thought yous was going back to Lynchburg.”  
  
“Well! I can certainly leave if you don’ want me.” Jimmy huffed, folding his arms.  
  
Clyde lifted his head to the door, “Yes, get outta my bar.”  
Stensland’s eyebrows rose, glancing between the two a little awkwardly, before the two brothers started to laugh.  
  
Jimmy brushed past Clyde, a hand touching the man’s arm, “I wanted t’check up on our new friend after last night, so I decided to stay with Mellie.”  
  
Clyde gave Jimmy a questioning look, but otherwise remained usually silent.  
  
Jimmy then turned to Stensland, giving him a once over, merely looking.  
He was smaller than Clyde, but Stensland recognised a big brother when he saw one.  
  
“Hey man,” Jimmy extended a hand, “How’s the head?”  
  
Stensland made a surprised sound, taking Jimmy’s hand, “Oh, it’s, uh, it’s grand, thanks!”  
  
Jimmy gave him another look, curious,  “D’you remember much of last night?”  
  
Clyde looked between Stensland and his brother with mild concern, actually wondering himself how much of last night did Stensland remember?  
  
Stensland made a face, “Pain, and some really tacky leather jackets. You’re... Jimmy?”  
  
“Yep,” Jimmy snorted, smiling, “About sums that situation up.”  
  
Clyde wasn’t sure if he should be grateful that Stensland didn’t remember being tossed his prosthetic, or calling him handsome, before he quickly walked towards the counter, “Nearly openin’ time. Get the neons?”  
  
“Sure,” Jimmy nodded, before he stopped halfway looking at the two.  
  
Clyde let the counter’s half-door open to Stensland, and Stensland, without really quite thinking about it, followed him through.  
  
Jimmy frowned, and Clyde answered his unasked question when he noticed his brother staring.  
  
“Stensland mentioned having some bartending experience a ‘lil while ago,” Clyde said, arranging glasses and purposefully keeping his back to Stensland, “An’ his job fell through, so…”  
  
A thoughtful look crossed Jimmy’s mind, before he fidgeted with the neon signs,  “Well, you had been thinkin’ about takin’ on more staff as of late - ”  
  
Then he hissed as one of the wires snapped, jerking back to shake his hand rapidly, “Shhhiit - Y’know, I could _still_ get you some new ones o’ these. They're old as fuck.”  
  
“As long as they work, they’re fine.” Clyde mumbled. Stensland got the impression that this was not the first time having this conversation, eyeing the stock to memorise where everything was, standing quietly in the same corner he was last night.  
  
Jimmy let a frustrated but relenting sigh, and after another moment of fiddling with wires did the neons spark to life. Then he unlocked the door, and shuffled towards a seat at the counter.  
He settled into it, and Stensland felt that was likely where he sat all the time.  
Then his attention was caught by Clyde, who now stood by his side. Stensland straightened up and unfolded his arms, listening.  
He wondered briefly why Jimmy wasn’t working alongside his brother, possibly chalking it up to the man’s limp - but that didn’t matter right this moment.  
  
Stensland had a job, somehow, after getting shitfaced and punched and then waking up in a total stranger’s house.  
  
It wasn’t the most outlandish thing to happen to him, but _still._  
  
“Right, first things first,” Clyde said, “It’s obviously yer first night an’ I just sprung this on you, but I normally prefer work clothes being a ‘lil more formal.”  
He gestured to what he was wearing, “Just a basic shirt, n’ jeans are fine s’long as they’re clean.”  
  
Stensland nodded, eyes raking perhaps more than they should at the well pressed fabric on the man’s chest, “I should have a shirt… uh, somewhere. I hope.”  
  
Stensland was actually pretty certain he _hadn’t_. At least, not anymore.   
  
Clyde smiled like he knew, “We’ll go to the store tomorrow.”  
  
Stensland found himself feeling more excited about that than he should, despite the anxiety of being behind a bar counter again, bad memories threatening to surface.  
  
Between Jimmy’s rather warm friendliness and Clyde’s assuredness, _this_ though, felt… felt…  
  
“You know how to mix cocktails?” Clyde’s voice quickly stopped Stensland’s sudden train of thought, and quickly reminded himself that this was _temporary_.  
This was not… not like back home.  
  
“Funnily enough, I do!” Stensland set his arms on his hips, suddenly bursting with acting confidence, “And after last night my friends, I think you may find I liken myself to be a bit of a connoisseur of them.”  
  
“Just don’t drink ‘em on the customers.” Jimmy raised an eyebrow at Clyde, who in turn pointedly ignored his older brother.  
  
“Okay, make me…” Clyde hummed.  
  
“A Ramos Gin Fizz?” Stensland suggested the first thing that came to his head, before realising that was a much more complicated cocktail than just a _little_ bit of bar experience.  
  
Both Logan brothers looked equally surprised, glancing at one another.  
  
“... _Do_ we have cream and eggs?” Clyde tilted his head to the empty kitchen, hair falling to one side, “I haven’t made that since that bachelorette night.”  
  
Jimmy groaned a little, head sitting in his arms, “Don’t remind me…”  
  
“Sorry, uh,” Stensland quickly said, resisting the urge to ask all about _that_ , “....Mmmaybe something a little less fancy?”  
  
This was only temporary, Stensland reminded himself again.  
  
Only temporary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, I'm really sorry this took so long to update ;_; 
> 
> I wanted a few more vague hints of Stensland's backstory, and development between him, Clyde and Jimmy before really getting into the meat of the story.
> 
> The song is America: A Horse With No Name.


	8. Chapter 8

Since this morning’s car ride, Stensland told himself he couldn't get attached.  
He can't. It wouldn't be practical, and it wasn't fair on Clyde.

That and if… _they_ found him.

No, he wouldn't drag Clyde into that.

He _couldn't_.  

 _No attachment_ he reminded himself, even when he'd tried on one of Clyde’s shirts, both laughing as it hung off him like a tent, before finding one that did fit.  
  
**_No attachment_** _,_ he reminded himself again when Clyde then introduced his sister Mellie, followed by her (Stensland assumed) boyfriend Joe Bang, and with Jimmy that made three at the counter all peering at him.  
  
“That’s quite a whopper,” Joe commented, and seemed to size Stensland up, “Who’d you piss off to get that?”  
  
Despite that Stensland knew he was a good bit taller than the man, the ‘FEAR GOD’ tattooed on both the man’s proximal phalanxes did not go unnoticed by the redhead, his own bare knuckles gripping the counter a little tightly.  
He wasn’t entirely sure why Joe was so curious - opening his mouth to reply before Clyde was standing behind Stensland, leaning a little forward and giving Joe a _long_ look.  
  
Something passed between the two of them behind Stensland’s back - and it was like Joe just… backed off, giving a little shrug as Mellie raised a sharp eyebrow at the entire display. Jimmy however was struggling not to smile.  
  
On the other side of the bar - the tips of Grayson’s fingers rapped slowly on the counter, making the barest sound. It was the only indication of annoyance she displayed, the rest of her facade a neutral calm, merely people watching.  
  
Enjoying a quiet drink after work just like everyone else.

Instead, her eyes were following Clyde like a hawk.  
  
Not two words outside of ordering a drink had passed between them ever since this… _Stensland_ appeared, and he was taking up all of Clyde’s moments of free time.  
  
She got nothing about the fight, the aftermath - like it had never happened. It was like Stensland had just mysteriously appeared, and was now behind the counter with Clyde.  
  
They seemed to be getting along well, and Stensland must’ve had some previous bar experience as he knew his way around Duck Tape like he’d worked there for years.  
The two weaved between each other as Stensland collected glasses and served one side of the bar on busy orders, while Clyde focused more on mixing drinks. It was almost harmonious.  
  
To her astonishment - Clyde had smiled. More than once.  
He had leaned down a little even to listen to Stensland - who could captivate a handful of customers with whatever tale or joke he was telling them.  
  
Clyde’s laugh was silent, but he had _laughed._  
  
Stensland even served her at one point, Grayson getting a good look at his scruffy appearance as they chatted amicably, the redhead notching up the charm.  
  
Neither noticed Clyde glancing over his shoulder for a few seconds longer than was usual.  
  
Stensland was unshaven, cropped copper hair sticking up, but otherwise he was, Grayson guessed, _sort of_ cute in … a kicked puppy kinda way. The yellow blue bruising along his eye and nose added to that.  
Thankfully he didn’t stink of sweat - was actually fairly clean smelling, but the guy certainly didn’t seem to be too concerned with presentation, especially having not shaved in a few days.  
He looked sloppy in a loose pale t-shirt and black sweatpants next to Clyde, but no one in this backwater place seemed to care too much.  
  
Then she saw his stark green eyes, and something clicked in Grayson’s mind as he moved away.

She began to take note of how he moved, how he talked so openly -  
  
_He knew how to blend in._  
  
After a while, Grayson finished her drink and stood up after deciding that she would count tonight as a loss, giving Clyde a wave as she passed.  
  
“Night night,” she called, giving a sweet smile, “ _Mister_ Logan.”

He nodded once to her and wished her goodnight, but made no effort to hold her attention further as he went back to serving again. He hadn’t even noticed the flirtatious formality.  
Hanging around at the doorway, Grayson noted that the moment Stensland called for Clyde - he was by the redhead’s side in an instant. Eager.  
  
Her eyes narrowed, and opened the door.  

 

Sometimes it was okay not to get results. Sometimes not everyone was suspect. Sometimes?

 

Her job simply just made her **too** suspicious.

 

This _Stensland_ might be gone tomorrow she surmised, slipping her jacket on and walked towards a waiting taxi. Clyde seemed the charitable type, and probably just wanted a temporary extra pair of hands.  
  
Hours passed, and as it got quieter - it occured to all of them that no one had even asked what Stensland’s full name was, Clyde remembering that Stensland could’ve literally been his first or second name.    
  
Stensland hadn't planned on meeting Clyde’s whole family or even his friends that evening, but, it seemed they were rather curious about the previous night’s…. _situation_ , and had eventually gathered, for some reason, around the pool table when there were no customers left.

Whoever this Max Chilblain guy was, he'd an axe to grind with Clyde. Stensland decided not to ask until he joked about the British being evil anyway. A risky joke, but thankfully got him amused laughs all around. Whatever it was about last night, it had hung in the air for a time until they’d moved on to other topics.

Curiosity rose high enough to ask about his full name, so Stensland pulled out his passport and handed it to Jimmy.  
  
“Michael Stensland.” Jimmy read out.  
  
Clyde leaned over to look at it, head tilted a little, while Mellie stood back with her arms folded, studious. Joe took a glance, neck straining, the fluorescents almost whiting out the tattoos on his face.  
  
“ _Mícheál_.” Stensland corrected, the pronunciation totally different.  
  
The Logan siblings all looked at him with open confusion. Joe shrugged.  
Stensland shifted awkwardly.  
  
“... It’s Irish for Michael, just… um, with little lines over two of the letters. It’s Irish, it’s definitely Irish - it’s complicated.” Stensland gesticulated a little wildly, “We call them _fadas_ over the letters.”  
  
“So… _Mee-_ ... “ Clyde frowned back down at the passport, before spotting what Stensland called fadas over the ‘i’ and ‘a’ on his first name, and that he was actually a little bit older than Clyde.  
His prosthetic hand rose to tilt the passport, and noted the long red hair Stensland used to have, touching his chin.  
It suited him, Clyde thought.  
  
“ _Mee-hawl._ ” Stensland explained, “But please don’t call me like… Mick or Micky or something, I hate that. Sten is actually way better.”  
  
“Noted.” Jimmy nodded, handing the passport back to Stensland, “You look like a Sten anyways.”  
  
“Mícheál ’s such a lovely name though.” Mellie reached to brush some of Stensland’s stubborn locks down, her long nails barely brushing his scalp,  “Why’d you get rid of all that lovely red hair too? You should grow it out again.”

Stensland let a bit of a hollow laugh, automatically rubbing the back of his head. He’d kept his hair shaved and the stubble long enough to appear rugged.  
It had merely been to make him look different -  an open disguise. He normally preferred his hair long and be clean-shaven, but… he wouldn't go down that road now.

  
“Easier to deal with for the weather I s’pose.” he lied easily, and felt his stomach twist with guilt.  
  
These were good people who'd gone out of their way to help him - and he couldn't even be honest.  
  
“I think it’s time to hit the hay.” Joe stretched, “Guess I’ll be seein’ you behind that bar there tomorrow, Stens?”  
  
Stensland’s lips parted, and he gave a small, uncertain shrug, “Only if Clyde says so - ”  
  
“I don’t see why not.” Clyde quickly said, completely ignoring the curious looks Joe and his siblings were giving him. Stensland looked at Clyde, giving him a small smile, before looking away.  

  
  
**_No._ ** **_  
_** **_  
_** **_Attachment._  
**  
  
  
“Want a hand clearin’ up?” Jimmy asked, before Clyde shook his head.  
  
“You were s’posed to be in Lynchburg today.” he chided, “Go see Sadie.”  
  
Jimmy raised his hands in surrender, but smiled all the same, “Alright alright, I’m goin’ - see you Stens.”  
  
He clapped a gentle hand on Stensland’s shoulder as he passed, before Mellie and Joe bade the two goodnight and followed him out.  
Stensland watched them leave, feeling a little wary.  
  
“You all right?” Clyde asked, picking up two beer bottles with one hand.  
  
Stensland quickly turned around, eyebrows high, “Of course! Let’s close up.”

His fingers barely brushed a pint glass when Clyde was suddenly next to him, a gentle, giant presence. Stensland felt himself hold his breath, gripping the glasses to his chest.  
  
“Don’t mind ‘em.” Clyde said, tone apologetic, “They can be a little nosey.”  
  
“Not at all!” Stensland quickly gestured dismissively, “I didn’t mind.”  
  
Clyde exhaled with mirth, shaking his head a little, “You’re too nice.”  
  
He tucked the beer bottles into one arm, and gently brushed past Stensland, shoulders barely touching. Merely a friendly gesture Stensland asserted, and quickly busied himself with clearing up the rest of the tables.  
They worked in relative silence for the next half hour, the chores halved for Clyde now that he had experienced help.  
  
Once the lights were out and Clyde had locked up, did he then turn to Stensland in the car. The keys were in the ignition, and that was as far as they got.    
  
“Y’can stay here if you want.” Clyde said, metal hand resting on the wheel, “The help would be nice. Can’t have Jimmy always comin’ back and annoying me.”  
  
Stensland, pressed into the seat of the car, slid his hand up the seatbelt unconsciously to grip it. Having bagged a job _and_ a place to stay in the one day made him feel like his luck had changed. Maybe he’d travelled far enough. Maybe he could stay here.  
  
_No, I can’t._  
  
“Well, I… it’s terribly kind of you, but, are you… are you sure?” Stensland sucked in his lower lip.  
  
Clyde nods, and his hair bounced a little, “Pretty sure.”  
  
“Well… until I get… sorted.” Stensland said hesitantly, his glances between Clyde and the dashboard. Whatever type of ‘sorted’ he means, in this moment he truly doesn’t know.  
  
Clyde seemed to want to say more, expression falling slightly - before he leaned back to start the car.  
Peeling out of the parking lot, Stensland folded his hands together, worrying at his lower lip.  
  
“Music okay- ?”  
“It’s been a while since-”  
  
Both men looked at each other for a second before letting a small laugh, breaking that sudden momentary bout of tension. He’d noted that Stensland had a slightly jumpy edge to him all day, but Clyde chalked it down to last night’s incident.  
A part of him was afraid to ask, feeling like the redhead would suddenly run and never come back. It was a ridiculous feeling, but it clung to him nonetheless.  
  
“You first,” Clyde offered, sitting back. His flesh hand rested on the gear stick, Stensland noting that his ring was a horseshoe.  
  
“Oh, it was nothing,” Stensland replied, albeit hesitant in his words, “Just that it’s been a long time since I last worked at a bar.”  
  
It was merely meant to be a throwaway comment, accidental - but it was something that Clyde zoned in on, “When’d you last work at a bar?”

Stensland’s smile was thin, “In Ireland, a long time ago.”

Despite his curiosity, something twigged with Clyde not to ask any more, and he reached for the radio at the same time that Stensland did. They brushed fingers over the dial, but neither jerked away. Clyde was the first to let a breathy laugh.  
  
“After you,” he offered, hand falling onto the gear stick again.  
  
Stensland made an amused sound, switching the dial. It was already set to a station, the beginnings of a song starting, a bold piano piece rising in volume.    
  
“Perfect.” Stensland commented, and Clyde began to pull the car from the lot.  
  
Neither took much notice of the song at first, until Stensland picked up the words -

 

 _‘Catch me if you can, catch me if you can, I just got my head down, and I'm a little bit scared tonight -’_  
  
  
  
“Mind if I change the channel?” Stensland half-laughed as he lied, “Heard this song _way_ too much.”  
  
Clyde hummed, intrigued, “Mind if I listen? I’ve never heard of it before.”  
  
“Of course.” Stensland wet his lips, trying not to seem too put out as the words began to grate on him, “Driver’s rules and all!”  
  
_‘ I need to run just far enough, so I can smile again, smile again - ’_  
  
“But, uh, yeah - I worked for my dad’s pub a long time ago.” Stensland said in an attempt to ignore the words, “Was… kinda nice doing it again after so long.”

 _‘Take me by the hand, take me by the hand’_  
  
  
  
“You were a real natural,” Clyde nodded, glancing once at Stensland, “It didn’t feel so overwhelmin’ tonight.”  
  
  
  
_‘But don't you get too close now - cause I'm a little bit scared of life’_  
  
  
  
“Guess I still got the touch!” Stensland stretched, worried eyes following the road as silence fell again between them. He deflated against the seat, accepting the wave of exhaustion that took him.  
  
It did feel weird being back behind a bar again, but this time it was… it was **fun** , and despite the rather specific lyrics - especially when it sang about _coming home_ , Stensland allowed himself the briefest of respites, imagination running wild:  
  
Living safely - happily with Clyde, having a good job at the bar, being friends with the locals...  
  
It was a few minutes when Clyde glanced at Stensland again, and saw his head tipped back against the seat - sound asleep. The street lights lit up Stensland’s now peaceful looking face and for that moment, Clyde too pretended that they were simply going home, together.  
  
The radio continued to sing: 

  
_‘A stranger walks beside me, and we're just lovers for the night’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so_ sorry this took an absolute age to update. I hit a serious block writing this chapter, and despite reading several amazing Clydeland fics - it underwent several changes before I finally decided that enough was enough and uploaded this. 
> 
> I'm not 100% happy with it, but, I hope it at least builds on our two soft boys at least. 
> 
> The song 'Catch me if you Can' is by the Irish band 'Walking on Cars' - and the lyrics could **not** be anymore perfect. 
> 
> I made a [Clydeland playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLs6QWZ6TBHWCZ__hOWGx6oKsxkWgoEFci) that includes this song.


End file.
